


Marigolds

by xivz



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carry On Remix, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Past Baz/Lamb, Pining, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz
Summary: Baz doesn't expect to run intoSimon Snowat a queer bar of all places. Unfortunately, their years apart has done nothing to tame Baz's feelings for the man. What makes the situation worse is Simon can't seem to keep his hands to himself (not that Baz is complaining).
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 40
Kudos: 327
Collections: Carry On Remix





	Marigolds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsfalling16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sugar, We're Goin' Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377534) by [angelsfalling16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16). 



> Huge THANK YOU to **[Caitybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/pseuds/Caitybug)** & **[tbazzsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri)** for beta reading this monster. I appreciate you both so much! 🖤

He’s peering over at me with narrowed blue eyes, and I know he knows what this is. 

“You brought me here so I wouldn’t cause a scene?” The quirk of Lamb’s lips has my insides tightening. He wouldn’t make a scene, he was never one for them. 

We’re sitting at the same Thai place that we had our first date at. In the same booth, with the same server. I suppose I have a twisted sense of humour. 

Our break up feels more like a business transaction than the end of a three-year relationship. 

“You know as well as I do, this isn’t working anymore,” I say, maintaining eye contact with him. 

Lamb has glossy bronze hair, lovely blue eyes, and is incredibly handsome. He’s older than me by about a decade, but we’ve always got on well. He says it’s because I have an old soul, I say it’s because he’s a little immature. Whatever it was, it worked well, until it didn’t. 

The truth is I’ve been in love with someone else for nearly half of my life, and it hurts. Instead of allowing myself to wallow in unrequited love, I attempted to move on. Although, as I dated around, I realized I had a type. It was mortifying. Bronze or brown hair, blue eyes, and if the bloke had freckles or moles then it was even better. None of them were who I wanted, but that’s just the way my life is. I never quite get what I want. 

Lamb gives me a rueful smile, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. I already knew about the other man he had been talking to for the last several weeks. It hadn’t bothered me as much as it should have, considering. Three years together and we hadn’t even discussed living together - which is a bit unusual. I think the only thing I’ve ever left at his flat is a toothbrush. 

“Alright,” Lamb says after a moment, “we can still be friends though, can’t we?” 

The way he asks tells me that we most definitely will _not_ be friends. But, I also know if I need anything, Lamb will be there for me. He’s the noble and reliable sort. 

“Of course,” I say. 

And just like that, I was single again. 

* * *

**Dev** [11:27 AM]: We need to get you back out there! 

**Me** [11:29 AM]: I’ve hardly been single for that long. It’s only been six weeks. Let me enjoy the solitude. 

**Dev** [11:32 AM]: I meant more like get you laid, mate. 

**Me** [11:44 AM]: What makes you think that I haven’t been pulling? 

**Dev** [11:45 AM]: You’re a shit liar. 

**Me** [11:46 AM]: My sex life is none of your business. 

**Dev** [11:50 AM]: You’re right, but answer me this—are you doing alright? 

**Me** [11:51 AM]: I’m fine.

* * *

Being single is fine, I’m in no rush to be in a relationship with anyone else. However, I’ve become a bit antsy. Especially tonight. It’s been a week from hell at work and I am in desperate need of some type of physical attention. 

I fluff my hair out a bit and give myself a once over. I’ve made sure to leave the top buttons of my shirt undone and to roll the cuffs up to my elbows. I even put kohl around my eyes to ensure they pop, and my dark ripped jeans are practically painted on. It’s a Friday night and I’m dressed in my typical pulling outfit. It’s never failed me in the past, and it’ll be put to good use now. 

The club that I frequent is a queer establishment, and it looks as if there’s a drag show going on tonight because it’s filled to capacity with all eyes on the stage. 

There’s very little space at the bar, the only available place is next to a man with deliciously broad shoulders and a thickly tapered waist. He’s got his back to me, so I get a look at his clean fade and some of the wisps of bronze curls at the top of his undercut. His neck is ridiculously long, and I spy no less than three moles as I approach. He’s in a plain white t-shirt, it clings to him enough that I can see the muscles of his back shift with his every movement. 

He’s hunched over his stein, and I wonder what his face looks like. His body alone is very much my type, but then I’ve always been weak for broad shoulders. 

I catch the bartender’s eye as I saddle up beside my target for the night. “Dry martini, please,” I say. 

My voice causes the man beside me to straighten up as if there were a rod going up his spine, and then he peers over at me with his boring blue eyes. He has three moles on his cheek, and one above his opposite brow, his freckles are like a Pollock painting, and his curls fall over his forehead enticingly. It’s been five years since I’ve laid eyes on Simon Snow. Yet, here he is, in a gay club, on a Friday night. 

“Simon,” I say quietly, the shock of it all consuming me entirely. I’m sure I look like an idiot, my eyes feel as if they’ve gone wide and my jaw is a little slack. 

“Baz.” He looks just as surprised as I feel. 

I’ve spent years of my life hopelessly in love with him, though I had prayed that after university graduation we would never cross paths again—to give my heart a chance to move on. A gay club isn’t where I ever expected to run into Simon Snow 

He looks good. My heart does a flip at the day-old stubble along his square jaw and his unkempt brows. The feelings that I thought I had almost forgotten flood back into me. The yearning, the need to be beside him, to stare openly at him, to taunt a reaction out of him—it’s overwhelming. 

My drink comes and I pay for it immediately, sipping it silently and all too aware of Snow’s eyes on me as I try my best to regain my composure. His gaze is trailing down my body before coming back up to my face. I lean against the wooden surface of the bar and turn to him. 

“Are you here alone? I, uh, I was here with a couple of friends, but, uh,” Snow swallows and I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple. Everything he does is still a production. “They just left. I was actually on my way out.” 

Wait—is he trying to chat me up? Or perhaps I’m thinking too much into this. I take my olive out of my glass and watch as his eyes follow it into my mouth. Interesting.

“I am here alone,” I say carefully. 

Snow remains silent as he watches me down the rest of my drink. He doesn’t say anything, so I pretend to make as if I’m going to move away from his orbit when his hot palm is on my forearm, and I freeze. He’s never touched me like this before. We have a tumultuous past together, I’ve been shoved and punched by Snow, but never has he put his hands on me _like this_. He lets go of me immediately as if I burn him. 

“Wait.” His voice has the same desperate tone that it always did whenever he thought I was going to leave him. The sound of it causes my heartbeat to spike sharply into my throat. 

Oh, Snow, you were always so easy to manipulate. I peer down at him, maintaining a cool facade despite internally being a mess. I arch a sardonic brow at him in question. As if I'm not aware that he wants me to stay. 

“Would you, um, like to go somewhere? Uh, you know, somewhere quiet? So we can talk for a moment?” His face is endearingly pink, a blush staining his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it makes me wonder how often Snow’s ever done this. I shake that thought as soon as it makes its way into my brain—it’s not something I should even worry about. 

“Sure,” I say. I try to smirk at him, but I know it falls flat. 

He turns, not bothering to check if I’m following him, and leads me to the back of the establishment, where the restrooms are. I try not to think of what a cliché the two of us are at the moment. Going to the loo for a quickie. But my heart is thumping hard behind my sternum and my hands are slightly trembling because _this is happening_. He’s taking me in here for a reason, he’s too transparent for me not to be aware of what it is. 

Relief floods me once I realize we’re alone. The door closes behind us, muffling the music and loud voices on the other side. 

“I hope that you didn’t bring me in here to just talk, Snow.” I mean for it to come out confident, but instead it’s nearly a whisper. A part of me is terrified of the rejection that’s to come, that he may want to just catch up. As if we were mates. Not that I wouldn’t love to hear the last five years of Snow’s life, I would—because I’m pathetic—but that’s not what I have in mind for my evening. 

“You called me Simon before.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

We stare at each other and I’m reminded of our school days. We always stared at one another, and I used to think it was because Snow loathed me. Now, however, I’m beginning to suspect that our attraction had been mutual. 

I sigh and roll my eyes at him before asking, “What did you want to talk about?” 

“Nothing.” Snow says. 

I take a step toward him, he’s against the wall beside the door, there’s very little space between us. I can feel his body heat radiating off of him from here. “No?” 

Snow shakes his head, his blush crawling down to his throat now. I wonder if it spreads down his body. I wonder how far it goes. “I just didn’t want you to go. _Fuck_ , Baz, you look gorgeous.” 

My heart twists inside my chest. Never in my life would I think that he’d openly pay me a compliment. His large hands reach out and grasp at my hips, his fingers slip through my belt loops to pull me closer to him. Until our bodies are pressed against each other. 

I bump my nose against his, I can smell the beer that he imbibed (he’s still a mouth breather), his smoky cologne, his sweat, and his musk. It’s a heady combination and it leaves me light-headed. If either of us were to move, our lips would meet. But I’m nearly frozen in my spot—never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be in my current situation. 

Our breaths are mingling, harsh in the small space between us. His pupils are blown out as he stares up at me, but he’s not moving. I want to lean forward and press my mouth against his, but I don’t, because that’s not what this is. I bring myself back to reality quickly before sinking to my knees before Snow. 

“Wu—what are you doing?” Snow asks stupidly. Honestly, he drags a bloke into the loo to ‘talk’, what does he expect? 

“What does it look like?” I ask with an arched brow. 

“But,” Snow is trembling, and I’m worried that maybe I misread the situation. “What—what if someone walks in?” 

A thrill goes through me and I bite back a smile as I begin to palm him through his jeans, “then lock the door, and we’ll be fine.” 

I watch as he does as I say. He swallows again and thumps his head against the wall before taking a breath—and probably gathering courage—before allowing his gaze back down on me. I wet my lips before my hands drag down Snow’s fly. Never in my life have I thought that I would be allowed this, I’m surprised I’m not trembling from overwhelming desire. 

I’ve wanted this for so long. When I finally free his cock, my mouth is flooded with drool as I gently lap my tongue against his glistening tip. There’s nothing inherently special about Simon Snow’s cock, it’s of average girth and length, as boring as the rest of him, but because it’s _his_ I can’t help but find it beautiful. It’s perfect, with freckles along the underside and it’s becoming pinker the longer I give it attention. 

I’m taking my time. Taking Snow into my mouth slowly, relishing in the weight of him on my tongue, and the taste of him in the back of my throat. I use one hand to stroke what I can’t fit, and the other to fondle him. Earning me low moans and half-hearted thrusts. 

“Fuck, Baz,” Snow whispers harshly. It’s everything. It’s all of my fantasies come to life. 

I hum before releasing his bollocks and moving my hand lower. His skin is soft and hot underneath my palms. I press firmly against his taint and further still until my finger brushes against his hole. He tenses and lets out a long, low, groan as I press my finger upward. 

“ _Fuck_ , yes. Yes, please, yes, oh!” Snow gasps. “Fuck— _Baaaz_ —” 

I gag, not expecting for Snow to come so soon, but I am determined to swallow every drop. Feeling him pulse against the roof of my mouth and down my throat. I stand up as soon as he’s done, licking my lips and trying to enjoy the aftertaste. My knees are sore from the unforgiving tile floor, but the ache is a lovely reminder. 

“Sorry,” Snow says after a long moment, gently tucking himself back into his pants and zipping his fly. 

I shake my head at him. “There’s no need to apologize.” I say, and I mean it. I hadn’t even expected any of this to occur tonight, and I’m deeply satisfied with the fact that I was able to bring such pleasure to him. 

Snow’s eyes are on the tented front of my jeans, I had been hoping to will it away, and I don’t necessarily need anything in return. Not really, even though it’d be my dream come true if he were to reciprocate. 

“Here,” he whispers against my ear as he leans forward, his large hands on the fly of my jeans. 

His hands are calloused and hot and sure. I hitch a breath as he pushes my jeans further down until my arse is exposed, and then he starts to explore my skin. Snow is unafraid, he spits into his palm before he takes me into his hand and it’s too much to see. He’s still flushed and his breath is shaking as he swipes his thumb over my tip. It's a little rough, too dry, too fast, too hot. It's utter perfection.

“Come on,” Snow murmurs to me, “let go, Baz.” 

I try to focus on my breathing, on something to tether me to this moment, my hands are gripping his broad shoulders and I muffle a cry into the meat of them as Snow quickly brings me to climax. I can’t help but lean against him, moaning into his shoulder and shaking from the intensity of it. I wish I could be embarrassed that it’s over far too soon, but I’m not. I only wish that we could have another go at it, somewhere proper, but that’s not what this is. I can’t fool myself into thinking that it’s more than just a hookup. 

It’s only as I begin to pull my hips away that Snow stops his ministrations, he stares at his hand, where my cum is still on his knuckles, before bringing it up to his mouth. _Holy fuck_.

I have to look away, it's too much. When I finally turn my face back to him, it's to the realization that he’s looking at me. His mouth is wet and his eyes are focused on my mouth. I wish I could kiss him, wish he’d allow me to, that I’d allow me to. It wouldn’t be a wise decision. 

“I should go,” I say. I ignore the flicker of hurt in Snow’s eyes as I turn away from him, tucking myself back into my pants and zipping my fly. 

“Baz,” Snow starts to say. 

“No,” I shake my head as I turn my back to him to wash my hands. There should be nothing to say between us. After five years of silence, Simon Snow and I just got each other off in a public loo. 

He frowns at me as if he didn’t just allow himself to be sucked off by me. In a fucking club restroom. I’m not sure what to even feel about all of this. Shame begins to settle in the longer we stay here together. It’s not that I haven’t done these things before, but never with someone who mattered. 

I avoid his eyes as I reach around him to unlock the door. Thankfully, he steps out of my way and allows me space to slink past him and into the crowd on the other side. I don’t bother staying for more drinks, and ignore the knowing looks of some of the patrons who were near enough to the loo to spy the two of us exiting. 

It’ll never happen again, I tell myself. But I know myself, I’ll think about it, I’ll remember every minute in vivid detail. I’ll torture myself for an eternity with the memory of the taste of him.

* * *

**Me** [01:23 AM]: I think I made a major mistake. 

**Niall** [01:25 AM]: Did you accidentally kill someone? 

**Me** [01: 26 AM]: What the fuck, Niall? 

**Niall** [01:27 AM]: I’m taking that as a ‘no’. Fuck off, unlike you, I have to work in six hours and would very much like to sleep. Text Dev. 

**Me** [01: 29 AM]: I’d rather light myself on fire. 

**Niall** [01:29 AM]: Cheers.

* * *

The universe enjoys my suffering. 

I see Snow again almost a week later, at an Asda of all places. I stopped by the market after work to pick up milk and butter when he approached me; with a crooked smile on his face that promised trouble. 

I’ve never been pulled at a market before, and I hadn’t expected myself to be by him, but I should have known better. Despite our years apart, I can’t refuse Snow. Though I should, he’s just horny and I’m—admittedly—easy. 

We wind up at his flat, his hands are insistent and his actions impatient. He has me naked before I’m even on his bed, and then he attaches his mouth to the side of my neck and his fingertips roam my exposed skin. And it’s good—of course. Of course, it’s good, it’s amazing, and it makes me want to weep with how wanted I feel. His teeth are nipping at the junction of my neck and shoulder and he starts to suck on the skin and it takes my brain a moment to realize what he’s trying to do. Simon Snow is trying to mark me. 

I want nothing more than to be marked by this beautiful man, but I don’t want to break my own heart more than I already am by tumbling into bed with him. A hickey is physical proof of what we’re doing. If things go south between us, if this is the last time we do this, I don’t want any marks on my body to remind me every time I look in the mirror — my memories will be enough. 

“Wait,” I moan as I push against his bare shoulders. He has freckles all over him, it makes me want to lick every inch of his skin, “don’t.” 

His mouth pulls off of my skin and he’s peering at me with dark eyes. “Don’t?” 

“No marks,” I say, and I want to avoid his gaze but I can’t. He’s entrancing this way, debauched and lustful. 

“Okay,” Snow says. He sounds disappointed and it causes my heart to plummet, but before I can say more on the matter, he’s kissing a path down my body. “You’re so fit.” 

And then he swallows my cock down to the hilt, so quickly that when I feel the back of his throat it’s wholly unexpected. 

“Oh fuck!” I hiss, my fingers going into his curls as his hands crawl up and pinch at my nipples. “ _Fuck_.” 

It’s overstimulating and I’m lost in the sensation of his mouth and the heat of his body over mine. It’s good, it’s fantastic, it’s too much too soon and I need to end it because this is not how I want to orgasm. I want to see Snow unravel beneath me, I want to hear him moan for me and beg for me and focus on only what I can give him. 

It takes a few attempts to pull him off, Snow looks confused at first, until I flip him over. Then his blue eyes go wide as I begin to grind against him, and the litany of noises that escape him is almost my undoing. He’s flushed down to his belly, and he strains with every one of my thrusts, our bodies together in perfect sync. 

“ _Baz_ ,” Snow warbles my name as if it’s a prayer or a curse—it doesn’t matter. I’ll never be able to forget the way he says it in the throes of passion. "Yeah, just like that, _yeah_."

We’re both left panting afterward, our bellies sticky messes and our skin cooling with dried sweat. I turn my face toward Snow and am startled by how close he is again. I want to kiss him. It would be easy to just lean over and do it. Do the thing I’ve been wanting to do since I was twelve years old. 

He wants me to. I can tell. Snow’s giving me a look that leaves me shaking and unsure. Instead of giving in to temptation, I roll out of his bed and ask him where his restroom is. I grab my clothes on the way and clean myself up. I use my fingers to comb through my hair and notice that, despite my preventing him from leaving a mark, there’s still the beginning of a love bite on my collar bone.

I look at my reflection a bit longer. Would he want to talk? I never knew Snow as being a conversationalist. Perhaps it’s better if I don’t say anything, that way I won’t ruin whatever it is that we’re doing.

Oddly, we’ve crashed into each other twice now, after being so many years apart without any sort of sighting.

I take in a deep breath, my body is still relaxed after my orgasm, and it helps me not feel as stressed as I could. I know that later I’ll be ashamed of myself for allowing this to happen a second time, but for now, the idea is walking out of here with my dignity. (As little as I have.)

Snow is wearing his pants and a t-shirt by the time I come out. His hair is a nest of curls, and I can’t help but find it endearing.

He gives me a bright smile and it causes my knees to feel weak.

“Um, so,” Snow gnaws on his lower lip and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I was wondering if—if I could, uh, have your number?”

“What?” I ask him as confusion sinks in. Why was he asking me for my phone number? Was this not just a two-time thing?

“I mean,” Snow’s face is flushing a beautiful pink. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

This conversation is awkward, endearing, and confusing. I mindlessly hand him my phone and he plugs his information in with a boyishly cheeky grin on his face. It makes me want to shove at him. It makes me want to kiss him. It makes me want to crawl on his lap and push him back down onto his bed.

Snow texts himself with my phone and then hands it back to me. “So we can hang out or something.”

 _Or something_ sounds like a thinly veiled promise for sex. Was this what we were going to do? Send each other booty calls and become friends with benefits? Minus the friend’s part, Snow and I have never been, and will never be friends.

I have this distinct feeling that he’s planning on using me to get off. Yet, I can’t bring myself to prevent it from happening. I’m allowing myself to be used.

Still, I want to ask him what he means. I need to know what this is between us, but I am too much of a coward to ask aloud. Instead, I keep the words in my mouth and allow Snow to walk me out.

* * *

**Snow** [04:47 PM]: Are you busy after work today?

 **Me** [04:48 PM]: No. Why?

 **Snow** [04:48 PM]: Come over?

 **Me** [04:50 PM]: I’ll be there within the hour.

 **Snow** [04:51 PM]: Aces.

* * *

I take my time worshipping Snow’s body, careful to not leave any marks despite the fact he said I could. I don’t think I could handle leaving a hickey and seeing it every time afterward. I can’t mark someone who isn’t mine that way.

I find all the places on his body that make him writhe and have him begging. It’s not difficult, Simon Snow is surprisingly easy to please. That doesn’t mean that I won’t give him all that I have and all that I am. 

When I finally take him into my mouth, he’s trembling. I relax my throat as I go further down, and I suppose he wasn’t expecting that because he was suddenly thrusting upwards, causing me to gag. 

“So—sorry,” Snow says as he fists his sheets. “I wasn’t, wasn’t, uh—.”

“It’s alright,” I say softly. “I liked it.”

He’s staring down at me with wide blue eyes, his chest heaving, “ _Fuck._ Can—can I?”

“You may,” I say. And then his large hands are in my hair, raking it back away from my face as he stares down at me with lust-filled eyes. Then he begins to thrust upwards, and he’s careful with me as he does so. He’s not trying to suffocate me or cause me to gag or vomit, but he is trying to get himself off. 

The scent of Snow’s sex is intoxicating, and I allow him to use me however he sees fit.

I wish I could burn this into my memory for as long as I live.

* * *

**Me** [05:56 PM]: It’s been a horrendous day, would you be interested in stopping by?

 **Snow** [05:58 PM]: To your vampire lair?

 **Me** [05:59 PM]: Yes.

 **Snow** [06:01 PM]: Send me your address and I’ll be there ASAP.

* * *

I'm currently inside of Simon Snow. Thrusting my hips and listening to him babble with pleasure. His body is flushed from his face to his navel and his thighs shake every time I pivot myself just so. 

It's difficult to feel anything negative in moments like this. When he's beneath me and begging me for more. When he's mouthing at my throat and nipping at my ears and clawing down my back with his blunt nails. 

Our texts to one another haven't consisted of much more than “come over”. We're currently in my bed, and Snow is wailing loud enough that I'd fear that the neighbors would hear if it weren't for the fact that I live in a corner unit.

His face is pinched in a pleasurable grimace and I feel like I'm drowning. _I love him. I love him. I love him._ My heart is in my throat and I'm biting my lower lip to prevent the words from tumbling out. It’s too much, yet not enough. I wish I could get closer to him than this. 

I know that being intimate with him is a bad idea. I've never been the type for one-night stands. (Could this even be considered that anymore?) And tumbling into bed with Snow is the worst decision of my life, but I can't stop myself. I’m addicted. 

Snow is pulling me down to him, and then his mouth is on mine in a fierce and sloppy kiss. And, yes, this was what I wanted. This is perfection personified. Our tongues meet and we moan into each other’s mouths and breathe harshly against each other’s cheeks. 

I reach down between us to pump at Simon in time with everything, and his grip on me tightens to the point where I know there’s bound to be bruises on my shoulders tomorrow. 

“ _Baz_ ,” Snow gasps before kissing me again. And again. And again. 

When I finally pull out, it’s with a boneless body. I collapse beside him, and Snow looks as if he’s about to kiss me again but pulls away at the last moment, nuzzling against my cheek with his nose instead. I suppose the other times were only done due to our passion, perhaps he couldn’t help himself. It leaves my chest aching painfully. 

Snow gets up after a moment and goes into my en suite with his clothes in his arms. 

I roll out of bed and throw on some loungewear while he cleans himself up. It’s ridiculous of me to think that he’d stay—neither of us ever have before. I want to ask him to stay the night, but that’s not what this is. Snow made that clear. We still haven’t discussed what it was that we were doing, not really. 

“I’ll see you around,” Snow says to me with a soft smile. 

“Of course,” I say as I close and lock my front door behind him. I try to ignore the stinging in my eyes, it’s causing the tip of my nose to heat and the lump in my throat almost impossible to swallow. 

* * *

**Me** [06:55 PM]: I need a friend. 

**Lamb** [07:00 PM]: Stop by The Lounge within an hour. I’ll be there. 

**Me** [07:04 PM]: Alright.

* * *

The Lounge was just that, a lounge that Lamb owned and ran. It’s a Saturday evening, so it’s busy, but no one bothers us where we sit. We have a perfect view of the bar and the floor where most customers are standing or sitting, a live violinist is playing on the small stage against the furthest wall. Everything here is dark—blacks and blood reds with birdcages hanging from the ceiling. 

“Tell me, pet, what’s troubling you that you reached out to me?” Lamb asks as I take the seat across from him.

Lamb looks good.

He always looks good. I envy how well put together he’s always been. Even now, I feel as if my breakdown is on display for all to see, but my ex is looking as cool as ever. 

There’s a Bloody Mary before both of us, and he’s holding onto my hand over the table, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. 

“Come now, love,” Lamb’s voice is soothing, coaxing. “Tell me all about your current boy troubles.”

“What makes you think there’s a boy?” I ask before using my free hand to lift my glass to my lips. Bloody Mary’s are not my go-to drink, but I’m not about to turn my nose at it just because of that. I feel as if I need a bit of liquid courage. 

Lamb arches a single perfectly sculpted brow at me knowingly. He squeezes my hand gently as he does. 

I sigh but do open up to him. It’s odd, he’s my ex-boyfriend, someone I had been with for three years. Yet, I don’t think anyone else would fully understand what I have to say. There’s no love between Lamb and me, there hasn’t ever been, not romantically. Our relationship hadn’t been like that. We’ve always had a mutual understanding when it came to our boundaries and our feelings. With Simon, there aren’t any boundaries. I feel as if I’m in the eye of a hurricane.

He sits and holds my hand as I let it all out. I feel foolish and lost. So lost. I don’t know what to do and need some sort of guidance.

“You’ve never been one to shy away from your words, Basilton,” Lamb says, but there’s amusement written all over his features. “Honestly, if you can’t say it aloud, you can always just text him, it may be easier for you.”

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of talking about my feelings, especially using a platform where I can’t erase what I had written. Hiding behind a screen sounds fine, but those words can never be taken back once they’re sent.

“Not to put an end to your internalized angst,” Lamb says with the quirk of his mouth, “but you have got an admirer at the bar. Which, frankly, I find rude, considering we’re holding hands, and it should be obvious you’re not available.”

“Maybe they’re just homophobic,” I point out.

“Doubtful.” Lamb says, “Feel free to look. He’s part of a small group.”

I take my glass and sip it as I allow my eyes to wander to whoever he was talking about. There is a small group, I recognize Penelope Bunce almost immediately. She’s laughing at something a tall, dark-skinned, bloke is saying. On the bloke’s other side is Agatha Wellbelove, looking as beautiful as ever, she’s got a girl with curly hair and freckles at her shoulder. On the other side of Bunce is the man who plagues my every thought. He’s the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing that’s on my mind when I go to bed at night.

Simon Snow is glaring at Lamb’s and mine’s joined fingers, and it takes all of me to not snatch my hand back. Snow doesn’t own me, we are not a couple, I can do whatever I like. Still, the anger on his face is noticeable, I could practically smell it from where I sit.

Snow says something to his group of friends before hopping off of his stool and throwing on his leather jacket. He leaves—practically stomping out—leaving them to stare after him with confused expressions on their faces.

“I hadn’t realized you were into the possessive type,” Lamb says as he let’s go of my hand. “That was him, wasn’t it? Simon?”

“Yes,” I say, my gaze still at the exit of The Lounge.

“Well, go after him,” Lamb says. “Chase after the love of your life.”

I want to argue that Simon would never consider me to be any more than a warm body for him to fuck. But there’s no use in arguing with Lamb over something so trivial. Instead, I thank him for agreeing to meet with me and for allowing me to let it all out. He waves me off, of course, because that’s the type of person he is.

“You’ll have to keep me updated to how the events unfold,” Lamb says to me before I leave.

I find Snow leaning against the face of the building, a cigarette hanging limply between his fingers. His eyes are closed tightly and he looks as if he’s trying to control his breathing. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

“I never took you as the jealous type,” I say casually as I stuff my hands into my coat’s pockets.

He gazes at me warily, almost accusingly. As if holding someone else’s hand was a crime. As if Snow and I hadn’t been having sex regularly. Although, we haven’t held hands. That seems too intimate for what we do together.

“Your anger smells like cigarettes,” I tell him as I approach him and pluck the cigarette from his hand. I take in a slow drag, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “These things will kill you, you know.”

“I’m not worried about cigarettes killing me,” Snow says while his eyes linger on my mouth as I release a plume of white smoke. “What happened to your friend?”

The tone of his voice is wrong, and yet I can’t help how it causes a spike of excitement low in my belly. I snuff out the cigarette and lean forward into Snow’s space, my mouth close to the hinge of his jaw. “Does it matter?”

Snow narrows his eyes at me as if I’m asking him a trick question. “No.”

“Good,” I smile and then kiss him.

He melts into me, and it tastes of smoke and possessiveness and aggression.

I pull away before he could even consider putting his tongue inside of my mouth. We should talk, we need to. We can’t keep carrying on the way we have been. It’s not good for my mental health, I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Snow asks me cautiously, his hands are on my hips, squeezing them gently.

I’m such a weak person, because, of course, I say yes.

* * *

**Snow** [12:34 PM]: Hey, random question, and you don’t have to answer, but...

 **Snow** [12:34 PM]: Are you seeing anyone else?

 **Snow** [12:35 PM]: Like, are you seeing other people romantically or physically?

 **Snow** [12:36 PM]: I mean, it’s none of my business. But I’m not. 

**Snow** [12:37 PM]: Seeing anyone else. 

**Snow** [12:38 PM]: Yeah.

 **Me** [01:01 PM]: You’re a mess, Snow.

 **Snow** [01:01 PM]: Haha, yeah…

 **Me** [01:04 PM]: And incredibly awkward. 

**Snow** [01:07 PM]: Fuck off.

 **Me** [01:23 PM]: No.

 **Snow** [01:24 PM]: No, what?

 **Me** [01:25 PM]: There’s no one else. No other men. 

**Snow** [01:26 PM]: And no other women?

 **Me** [01:27 PM]: I’m gay, you moron.

 **Snow** [01:29 PM]: Cool cool cool cool cool. 

**Snow** [01:30 PM]: That’s good to know.

* * *

Dev has his head on my shoulder, grinning up at me while poking me at the side. “You look good, Bazzy. Healthy.”

Niall is seated across from us. We’re at our local pub, a game of football playing on the televisions, with quite a crowd cheering or jeering. I was watching as well until Dev decided to encroach upon my personal space.

“I especially like the hickey on your neck,” Dev’s grin becomes salacious. 

I can feel my face heat up, but I shove my cousin off of me. “Fuck off.”

I had practically begged Snow to mark me, to do whatever he wished. He didn’t disappoint. I’ve hickeys on my chest and between my legs as well. As if Simon were making up for lost time. He was very enthusiastic about it, whispering sweet nothings against my skin as he made a path of love bites. 

“Are you dating anyone new?” Niall asks. He’s got a friendly look on his face, but it hides how manipulative he can be. Niall may be my best friend, but he and Dev tend to have a hive mind. The only difference is that Niall seems to have all the good of their joint personality, while Dev is everything else. 

“Not exactly,” I answer honestly. 

What Snow and I have been doing wouldn’t exactly equate to dating. We see each other several times a week now, and it’s not always for sex. But we don’t go on actual dates, unless you call snogging until our mouths are sore while Netflix asks if we’re still watching a date. (Which I don’t.)

I’m staring down at my wine glass, hoping to avoid their gazes and silently telling them to drop it. Of course, my friends aren’t the type to take subtle hints like that.

Dev perks up with a knowing smirk on his obnoxious face. I want to punch him so badly. “So, you’ve got yourself a fuck buddy? Good on you, mate. Anyone we know?”

“You’re a nosy arsehole,” I say to him. 

“That’s a yes!” Dev crows while cackling. Why do I bother hanging out with him? Is it because we’re related and therefore friends by default? Do I actually like Dev? These are questions that I’ve asked myself practically my entire life. 

“Stop being a twat, Dev,” Niall says, but he’s also smiling and trying his best not to laugh. 

“I hate both of you,” I answer before running a hand through my hair. I may as well let it out, it’s been months of Snow and I getting together. “It’s Simon Snow.”

“Oh shit,” Dev says. 

“Ah, Basil,” Niall winces. 

I groan and put my head in my hands. I’m so pathetic. They’ve known about my lifelong crush on Snow, they knew before I even realized it, back when we were teenagers. They’ve both been there through the ups and downs of my feelings, and the failed relationships that followed as aftermath.

My cousin puts his arm around my shoulders, “if he hurts you, you let us know. We’ll kick his arse.”

* * *

**Snow** [05:45 PM] Can I come over?

 **Me** [05:46 PM]: Yes.

 **Snow** [05:47]: Cheers!

* * *

Snow is taking me apart slowly, drawing out my pleasure until it’s almost unbearable. I feel as if I’m going to die, and I can’t prevent it from happening. 

“There we go,” Snow says as he finds that spot inside of me that causes sparks to race across my skin. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” I whine as he rubs against it with just the right amount of pressure. I’m trembling, and pleasure builds up throughout my entire body. "Simon, _please_."

“Soon, darling,” he says before he kisses the inside of my thigh. His tongue traces patterns along my skin and leaves me entirely breathless at how gentle he’s being. This isn’t like the other times, this is being drawn out until I’m left inside out and exposed. 

When he finally pushes in, his movements are almost tender. I want to pull Snow down and in, deeper and harder, but he refuses to budge. I’m left clawing at him and gasping and sobbing. It’s too much, it’s too good, and Snow’s always so good to me. 

“Please,” I hear myself begging. My voice is an unrecognizable mess and I feel my eyes begin to heat with unshed tears. This isn’t fucking, this is making love. 

Simon Snow is making love to me, does he even realize? Does he know what this means to me?

I try to move my hips, to encourage him to go harder or faster, but he holds me still. I’m practically folded in half and his hand is palming at me in time with every thrust of his hips. It’s overwhelming. 

“Fuck,” Snow says through moans. His eyes are closed and his mouth is wet and open, and I can’t help but stare at him. Drink him in and allow myself to pretend this is more than what it is. It feels like it’s more than what it is. “I love how you feel.” His voice is low and strained. 

I can’t help but nod, what can I add to this?

“ _Oh my God_ ,” I sob.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Snow says while adjusting my legs so that they’re over his shoulders. 

It causes him to go deeper, so incredibly deep. My head falls back and my neck is exposed, my hands are fisting the sheets and there’s a scream trapped in my chest. Suddenly Snow’s free hand is pressing down on my throat and his movements begin to speed up and this is it. This is how I perish from the world. 

“ _Simon_!” I’m crying openly now, my body shaking hard as I finally reach my climax. Everything narrows down and my mind blacks out, the only sound I can hear is the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and Snow’s growl of completion. 

I’m boneless and unable to move when we’re done. Snow leans over me as he pulls out and kisses me. He kisses me as if I’m something he cherishes. It’s soft and languid, and sensual as if we have all the time on Earth to do this. 

When he pulls away, he wipes at the sides of my face with a small frown. “Are these good tears?”

“It was a lot,” I answer honestly. It was the best sex I ever had in my life, and it was with Simon, and it doesn’t mean anything to him. Not the way it does to me. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks me as he peers down at me with worried blue eyes. And if I had the strength I would push aside his bronze curls just to feel them under my palms. 

“No,” I breathe as I look up at him. 

Snow rolls out of bed and moseys into my en suite, still nude. He returns with a damp flannel to clean me up with. 

“Thank you,” I manage to say, although a part of me is mortified that he’s doing this for me. The rest of me is too touched to fight it. “Do you—.” I cut myself off. 

“Do I?” Snow asks while lifting both of his brows stupidly. I hate how I find the fact that he’s unable to arch a single brow endearing. He leans forward and kisses me again, just because he can. 

“Would you like to stay?” I whisper to him in the space between our mouths. 

Snow stares at me for a moment, his face slightly flushed, “Really?”

I suddenly want to take it back. What am I trying to do? “I mean, you don’t need to—”

“No, I do—want to, that is. I’ll stay. Yeah.” He’s suddenly beaming at me, with a smile so bright that I fear it may blind me. “Do you have food in your kitchen? I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are,” I say. I mean for it to come out snarky, but instead it comes out fond. I’m such a disappointment to myself. “I’ll need a few minutes.”

His grin becomes wickedly wolfish, “Do you?”

“Shut up,” I say while covering my face with my hands. Yet his laughter only causes my heart to expand with my fondness for him. “You know that you can stay whenever you’re here, right?”

Snow’s giving me a look of awe. He swallows uselessly and it causes his Adam’s apple to bob enticingly. “That’s good to know, your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

I’m pulling him down for a kiss before I realize it.

What am I fucking doing?

* * *

**Me** [05:47 PM]: I’m here. 

**Snow** [05:48 PM]: :D

* * *

Snow greets me at his front door with a soft kiss. It’s strange how we do this now, we kiss each other hello and goodbye. We spend the night at each other’s flats. We spend most of our free time together and we’ve been texting each other quite a bit lately. It gets my hopes up. 

I should end this. 

“Hey, I was wondering,” Snow is rubbing at the back of his neck nervously as I shed my coat. “Would it be alright if we just, I don’t know, like watch a film together tonight?”

“As in going out?” I ask in confusion. What game is he playing at?

His face is flushing with a blush, “Um, yes? There’s this film that I want to watch and maybe we can get something to eat afterward?”

This sounds suspiciously like a date, but he hasn’t asked outright. This could just be a thing that friends with benefits do. Maybe he’s trying to focus more on the friend part of it? Or maybe Snow has no one else to go out with him on a Friday evening. He doesn’t seem the type who’d mind going to the cinema alone. 

“Alright,” I concede after several moments. I put my coat back on and button it back up with deft fingers. “Would you mind if I drive?”

The smile Snow gives me makes me want to kiss him. I don’t, I have self-restraint. He nods and then is shoving shoes onto his feet and making sure that he has his wallet and keys before throwing on his leather jacket. 

“You won’t regret it!” Snow says. 

Somehow, I feel as if it’s too late to regret any of whatever it was going on between us.

Snow insists on paying for the movie tickets, saying that it was his suggestion and therefore only the right thing to do. 

We watch some Michael Bay rubbish, but it’s fun. At one point, Snow leans against me and places his head on my shoulder, and my heart feels as if it will burst. We both make fun of the film once we exit the cinema and walk over to a nearby pizzeria where we share a large margarita pizza. 

It’s comfortable and casual, and not at all what I expected spending time with Snow would be like. 

“Simon!” 

We both turn and see Penelope Bunce approaching us with a confused smile on her face. 

“Hello, Basil,” Bunce says to me cordially. “I haven’t seen you since uni! How have you been?”

Penelope Bunce, my academic rival throughout school. I only managed to get higher grades than her by the skin of my teeth. It was a good competition. 

“I’ve been well, Bunce,” I say, “And yourself?”

“Perfect,” she says. She doesn’t look very much different. Still with her frizzy curly hair and her unfashionable glasses. “What’re you two doing out and about on this Friday evening? Especially when a certain someone canceled on me?”

Snow looks frozen for a moment as he stares up at his best friend. I nudge his foot under the table with my own, and it seems to get him out of his stupor. “Well, I had plans with Baz. We’re friends now.”

 _Friends with benefits_ , I mentally supply. 

Bunce looks as if she wants to ask more, but she’s aware that I’m also sitting there and will more than likely bide her time until she could get Snow alone. I can see her mind already working on a reason as to why the two of us—Snow and I—would be hanging out in public on a Friday night. It appears that the last five years have taught Bunce tact because she leaves with pleasant goodbyes and doesn’t press Snow with any questions. 

Once she’s out of sight, Snow turns to me with his undivided attention. “Baz?”

“Yes, Snow?” I ask him while sitting back and straight. 

“What are we doing?” He asks. 

“We’re eating dinner together,” I answer. But I know exactly what he means.

It’s a question I’ve been dying to ask myself for several months now. And, of course, he’s the one with the courage to finally ask it. Unfortunately, he’s asking in a public setting, and I’d rather have this conversation in private. 

“Would you mind if we discuss this in private?” I ask him as I wave over our server to pay the cheque. 

“Oh,” Snow says as if remembering that we’re in a crowded pizzeria on a Friday evening. “Yeah, let’s go.”

We make it back in my car in record time, Snow holding a box of leftovers in his lap as we belt up and begin to drive back to his flat. The silence between us is heavy, and I loathe it almost as much as I loathe the uncertainty between us. 

“What exactly do you mean by that question?” I ask, my grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that my knuckles are becoming white. 

“It’s just,” Snow is gnawing on his lower lip. I can tell without even looking at him. “I know we both said we’re not seeing other people, but—but are we more than just two blokes having fun with each other?”

I wait until we’re parked before his building before I answer so that I can turn to face him. The only light illuminating the space between us is from the street lamp. It somehow causes Snow to look ethereal. I suppose this is the moment where I’ll have my heart stomped on, where he’ll tell me that it’s nothing serious and leave me a shell of a man. 

“I,” I start, carefully choosing my words, “I don’t want to push you into anything.”

He wrinkles his nose at me, “That’s tosh. I mean, it’s obvious that I’m desperately attracted to you—”

I scoff, trying my best not to laugh, “I should hope so.”

“But Baz, I want more than that. I want us to be more.”

“Simon,” I say, “I’d love to date you, but I wasn’t sure what this was to you—”

“I don’t just want to date you, Basil.” Snow cuts me off, his jaw jutted out toward me. “I want us to be boyfriends.”

I can feel my face heat up, and a smile threatening to break across my face, “Yeah? I’d like that too.”

Snow’s eyes are shining as he stares at me, “Good, because, I—I—well, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time, Baz.”

The air has escaped my lungs and I can feel my voice warble as I say, “I love you too, Simon. I’ve loved you since school.”

“Me too,” Simon says with a wet laugh, “Fuck, me too, Baz. So, we’re boyfriends now? Right and proper?”

“Yes,” I say, and I’ve never felt this happy before in my life. 

“Good,” Simon nods, and then he’s shoving the pizza onto my backseat before turning to me, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Only he doesn’t get the chance, because I have his face in my hands and am kissing him instead.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by the Kishi Bashi song **[Marigolds](https://youtu.be/4vkL7YJW9So)**
> 
> Come say hi to me on **[tumblr](https://xivz.tumblr.com/)**!


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